


Please Stay When The Others Go

by tempered_rose



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Poor bb, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: Thomas wakes up in Robert's bed and remembers just how it came to be that he was there.





	Please Stay When The Others Go

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written footie fic in an embarrassingly long time, nor have I written ANYthing in a long while. I hope this doesn't suck too much. I know it jumps around a bit. Please be kind :S

The fact that it wasn’t raining was the first thought Thomas had when he returned to the world of consciousness. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, but the _pit-pat_ sound that had been non-stop in Bavaria for weeks--except for when it was terribly silent with the hush of falling snow--was suspiciously absent. Without opening his eyes, Thomas poked a toe out from under the blankets to get a feel for the air and it wasn’t biting with cold. Still, he returned his toe back under the warm blanket and enjoyed his second thought for the new day.

His bed was delightfully soft and warm. It was the perfect level of comfort for his preferences. Thomas stretched and enjoyed the way the sheets and duvet wrapped around him in a cotton-smelling cocoon. He wrinkled his nose, frowned, and then forced open his eyes. Cotton. This wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his room; it definitely wasn’t the sterile smell of laundry from a hotel.

He released a breath and stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes again, except now his rest was interrupted. He lifted a hand from under the sheets to rest against his face as he rubbed at his forehead, already trying to figure out what to do or say to Robert who was absent. He hoped the other man was downstairs and not only temporarily absent in the en suite bathroom or something. Not that that would do much good; Thomas would have to leave somehow and what was worse than trying to do the walk of shame without disturbing the other person in their own home?

Thomas shifted on the bed and found he was wearing his briefs, a good sign but that didn’t stop him from feeling a slight amount of soreness when he moved either. From somewhere deep down, he tried to bring some energy back to his bones so that he could get up, get dressed, and go home. His hand came away from his face and flopped down into the plushly padded duvet with a slightly pillowed noise. His eyes adjusted to the morning’s light and he glanced out the window. Cloudy, but not raining and he couldn’t see any snow dotting the trees of Robert’s back garden.

In the distance, he thought he could smell the beginnings of breakfast and Thomas groaned, turning away from the door with his eyes closed, as he buried his face in Robert’s pillow, inhaling and smelling the other man’s shampoo.

* * *

Thomas couldn’t remember the name of the first boy he ever had a crush on. The first, and only, girl was and is Lisa. She’s truly wonderful and he does love her with all of his heart which is why he married her, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his preferences for the male form. Thomas thinks she understands, and she never comments on it, except perhaps to offer a ‘he’s cute’ when Thomas’ eye catches on a new man.

But before that, Thomas had his eyes on a boy in his maths class. He couldn’t recall his name but with his hyperactivity, that wasn’t that unusual. The boy had sandy blond hair and brown eyes and he played football. That was enough for Thomas then and tried to tell the boy that he ‘liked’ liked him. Only Thomas wasn’t enough for the boy; Thomas wasn’t a girl and Thomas let his eight-year-old heart be broken for the first time in his life as he watched the boy go off with a girl from another class.

\-----

When he was a few years older and watching Bayern’s first team from the sideline instead of on the television at home, Thomas was allowed to view such beautiful men playing the most beautiful sport. He didn’t have much of a crush on any one in particular because he loved them all for playing the sport he loved for the team he loved.

When he was a little older still, he was substituted on for Miroslav for the first time and he made his professional debut. He was twenty years old and he remembered the smell of sweat and grass and the feel of Miroslav’s hand as it squeezed his own as he came on. Thomas remembered the strength of the grip as the older man came off for the last ten minutes. Thomas didn’t wipe his hand on his shorts and jogged away from the sideline to get into the game and try to contribute something to the game he so cherished.

In the end he didn’t matter much in that game, it ended in a draw, but he still got his debut. With his inexperience, he was tried a few more times that season, but he and the bench remained good friends. Miro would bump his shoulder lightly in passing, or squeeze his arm in good faith, but apart from small, reassuring smiles and a lightness in Miro’s eyes, Thomas found the older man a good mentor and no more.

\-----

He refused to be jealous of peroxide blond Basti and his Poldi. He had wanted their closeness, someone to feel that he could share everything with and just be loved entirely and completely. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy when Lukas returned to Cologne the following year. Thomas didn’t say much about it to Basti, but he did sit next to the blond more often from then on and Bastian seemed grateful, if his soft smiles were anything to go by. During die Mannschaft, it was the same as it had ever been and the two were joined at the knee, elbow, and head and everywhere in between.

Thomas made his way down the path of finding a routine and trying to make a routine stick. He wanted to be a regular in the first team and to be called up for the national team like the others were and to play in those games. He didn’t like to be called up only to sit and watch. He knew he was almost there, but it always seemed out of reach. Just a little further and he could make it…

Then May came and Thomas forgot how to breathe for the first time.

\-----

Six foot two, blue eyes, and dimples when he smiled, Mario Gomez was _beautiful_. And he could play, and now he would play for Bayern. Mario smiled a lot when Thomas was around, and Thomas endeavored to make him smile all the time so that he could see those dimples. Fortunately, Mario seemed to take a liking to Thomas so it didn’t take much effort at all for Thomas to convince the older man to kiss him.

Goals were scored, so many of them, and Thomas would run to Mario and Mario would run to Thomas. They would hug as often as they could, touch when they couldn’t, and Mario seemed to claim Thomas for his own. They shared rooms, seats next to one another on busses and planes and trains, even toothbrushes in hotels when Thomas would unfailingly forget his at home. It went without saying that they shared beds as well and, for the first few nights together, there would be shy groping in the darkness with sloppy kisses to accompany their hands.

Before long they found a way to start an inferno together without the awkwardness. Mario’s lips on his skin would set Thomas on fire and would send him grabbing for any part of Mario he could reach. There were endless planes of smooth, freckled skin he could touch and ignite on his own and Thomas tried to make Mario burn the same way he was. He delighted in every groan he could pull from Mario’s throat, especially when he would tug a little on Mario’s hair. Thomas would give the other man hickeys because he did love to bite a little more than was probably normal, but Mario didn’t seem to mind, especially not when he was buried in Thomas’ body.

He had loved Mario. He had loved him so much that he really should have known better.

\-----

Bayern was a machine that stirred the pot to avoid things settling and stagnating. If there were no goals, then there were no contract extensions. If there were no prizes in the cabinet, managers would go. Managers had the power to change squads, and really, really, Thomas should have seen it coming when Mario got into an injury, scoreless run.

Thomas didn’t cry when Mario came to tell him about Italy. He didn’t cry till he got home and the thickening in his throat couldn’t be denied any further. He didn’t speak to Lisa at all for several days, even though she came to check on him often. He and Mario tried for a while, even with the distance, but what Thomas was afraid would happen did. The phone calls turned to text messages which turned into occasional jabs of a ‘hey’ into a keypad and waiting for a reply for hours, then days. Until there was silence. It would get renewed when there was a national game, but that would only last for so long, and Thomas tried not to have his heart broken again. He tried, but he wasn’t successful.

Basti and Lukas were sympathetic and were kind to him when he was quiet in those national call ups. They adopted him into their group and probably would have invited further had Thomas felt so inclined, but he didn’t want to intrude on what was already a perfect couple together. Three really would have been an oddity and he was feeling awkward enough as it was.

Miroslav was more understanding about it all than Thomas had given him credit for.

Miro had always been supportive, an open door or shoulder to lean on if needed, and Thomas had always been comfortable around him. He made the older man laugh too and kept him from being too serious when he had played for Bayern. Then Miro had gone to Italy, but they always saw one another during call-ups. Miro was a familiar presence in the background that Thomas hadn’t really paid much attention to before, not the way he had deserved. Miro had the same comfort and nostalgia a favored sweater, warm blanket, or childhood teddy bear did. It was just easy to be around him; Miro didn’t have the sharp edges of painful feelings that Mario had. Miro wasn’t a gaping absent hole in his life that Mario had been, and Thomas didn’t realize how much he needed that comfort until Miro pulled him aside for some tea after a training session in the rain for a qualifier.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Miro had asked, warm hand on his shoulder as he set the teacup down in front of him. Thomas had remained quiet for a few minutes, a shrug in place of a proper answer.

Miro sat across from him and didn’t say anything either when Thomas remained quiet. He glanced at a newspaper left on the table as he sipped his tea, but he was patient and waited him out. Thomas didn’t find it offensive that Miro was reading the news; in fact, it was nice. Pleasant. Uncomplicated.

‘I’m gay.’ Thomas started and Miro didn’t look up. He didn’t even bat an eyelid as he answered ‘I know’.

‘Like really, really gay.’ Thomas wasn’t sure what reaction he was looking for. ‘If I wasn’t a professional footballer, there’d be rainbows and glitter all over my stuff.’

Miro glanced up, finger marking his place on the page. ‘I am aware, though if you would like to use glitter or rainbows more often, I’m sure no one would object to your doing so.’

‘Even though I’m a faggot?’

Miro’s face shifted into an expression of unpleasantness. ‘Please don’t use such coarse language, and no, I’m sure most would be fine with it.’

Thomas scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I fuck men for fun. It makes me feel good.’

‘No you don’t.’

‘I think I would know!’

Miro smiled patiently. ‘You don’t fuck _men_ , you’ve been involved with only _one_ man, I believe.’

‘What business of yours is it? Maybe I’m a slut.’

‘Perhaps you are, but you don’t have the...emotional experience to handle a break up if you were involved with more than one person.’

‘You can sleep around and not have feelings about those people.’

‘True, and if you are and that’s what you want, then by all means. Just be safe.’ Miro gave him a look that Thomas was pretty sure could be classified as paternal. ‘However, that isn’t the case, is it Thomas?’

He fidgeted under those honest eyes. ‘No.’

‘And that’s what’s been bothering you, isn’t it?’

Thomas nodded and Miro folded his hands over the paper while watching him.

‘I just… Seeing him, it hurts.’ Thomas mumbled and avoided looking at the other man. ‘Even hearing his name…’ He shook his head.

‘It will be better with time, Thomas.’

‘Patience isn’t really my thing…’ He trailed off, glare softening under Miro’s concern.

‘Have you talked to him since he left?’ 

‘We tried but then we both got busy and football stuff happened, and we never saw each other and… it just was easier to say nothing than to force a conversation, which would have probably ended in a fight anyway.’

‘The easy road isn’t always the worst choice.’ Miro stood up and went to fix them both a fresh cup of tea. ‘It’s alright Thomas, you’ve done nothing wrong.’

They spent the afternoon talking. Thomas was able to get out the venom that was still poisoning his bloodstream by having Miro exorcise his hurt feelings with his painless method. Afterwards, Miro made sure Thomas had his email address as well as his phone number and that Thomas understood that he could call him anytime for any reason and that it would be alright. Thomas left Miro’s hotel room with the retort that Miro should have been a therapist instead of a footballer.

\-----

Where Mario’s absence had left a chasm, Miroslav’s kindness filled it with warmth and Thomas didn’t realize until much too late that he had somehow fallen in love again, only this time with the most unattainable person in all the world. Miroslav was unassuming, quiet, and he would never, ever rock the boat of his life by taking in a silly boy like him into his world. Thomas buried those feelings, or tried to, but it became another task that would take its toll, especially during the world cup that they won. Miroslav’s last cup run, everyone knew it, but still Thomas hoped.

He came out injured in the first game and Miroslav was there to help him, gentle hands on his face as Thomas lay bleeding on the pitch. Careful to pull him up and help him towards the medics as Thomas’ vision swam. Later, Miroslav would keep an eye on him all night to make sure he really was okay. Thomas had an open door to tell him how he felt and be able to blame it on a head injury and the resulting medication, but he didn’t. Instead, Thomas just let himself relax under Miro’s careful gaze.

‘Go to sleep opa.’ Thomas slurred somewhere around two in the morning. The lamp in the corner of his room was the only light on, leaving everything in soft yellow light and dark shadows. Miro was sitting next to his bed in a chair that he had pulled up.

Miro simply shook his head and said softly, ‘I will be fine, my boy. I just want to make sure you’re safe.’

Maybe it was his tone, or the fact Thomas really did have a head injury, but he almost could believe that maybe his feelings for Miroslav weren’t as one-sided as he thought they were. Maybe it was the look in Miro’s eyes as he said it, but in the end, Thomas chalked it up to the medication he was on and let himself fall into a state of unconsciousness.

They won the game, they won the tournament and Thomas wanted to celebrate with no one but his friends and Miroslav. If he knew how many of them would retire soon after, leaving die Mannschaft for good in just a few short weeks’ times, maybe Thomas would have held on a little tighter for a little longer. Instead, he just held as tight as he could to Miro and let himself enjoy the moment. He hoped it wasn’t going to be the last world cup trophy he would ever see in his career.

\-----

Then Miro had retired from die Mannschaft and thank God he had decided to come be a coach when he properly retired because at least Thomas would still get to see him on occasion then.

‘Going to miss playing, opa?’ Thomas had asked him on the phone once, his mobile balanced on his shoulder while he tied his shoes so he could leave and go to training.

‘Miss waking up that early in the summertime? No, no. Not at all.’ Miro replied and Thomas could hear the sleep in his voice. Neither of them mentioned that Thomas had just called and woken him. ‘Have a good time, my boy.’

‘Go back to sleep opa.’ Thomas ended the call as he grabbed his keys and started out to his car.

\-----

Then along came Robert who Thomas knew very well from all of the games against Dortmund. He was a demon to play against and finally he was inducted into the team after the World Cup win but Thomas wasn’t sure what to think about him, apart from being glad that he was on their side. Bundesliga was incestuous with players migrating between teams, but this was one case that Thomas was glad Bayern had stolen Dortmund’s best, though he kept that to himself.

Robert was tall, dark haired and blue eyed like _someone_ else had been, but Thomas was older now and didn’t just go around throwing his heart all over the place. Besides, he had a crush on someone else who was out of his grasp and who he wasn’t even sure was gay except for a few dreams that may or may not have been reality when he’d just had a bad knock in a game.

He was lethal in a game and Thomas loved his goal conversion ratio. It also gave him some competition for keeping his place in the squad. Robert was polite and smiled when Thomas said something funny, but apart from a few quick hugs or hand slaps when one or the other of them scored, nothing was like it had been before with Mario. Thomas was just fine with that.

At least, he had been.

Robert, it seemed, had designs on him.

From stretches together to sharing bus seats to lingering touches after goals were scored to unintentional staring contests, Robert was a fairly social butterfly who kept returning to Thomas’ orbit and so Thomas asked around to see why that was.

Manuel told him it was because he was so damn loud that it would be impossible for anyone to escape Thomas’ gravitational pull, least of all a new signing. Philipp told him that Thomas was one of the best people to welcome new men to the club. Basti told him that maybe Robert had seen the photo of Thomas in the dirndl and had decided he wanted a private viewing.

Thomas thanked Phillipp for his opinion, ignored Manu’s remark, and disagreed with Basti about the dirndl. He shrugged and decided to just be his usual obnoxious self around the new guy and see what came of it. After all, he wasn’t trying to be involved with anyone and he wasn’t sure anymore if he wanted to be. It had been nothing but grief from the very start. He hadn’t changed his behavior, but he hadn’t encouraged Robert either.

\-----

Bastian left for United the next year and Thomas felt a little bit betrayed. They were the last of the original group along with Fips and Holgi. Bastian had told him first and he had looked apologetic about it all.

‘I have to go Mulli. I have to.’

‘But why? Why do you have to? It’s supposed to be us, you and me, Fips and Holgi together to the end. Why do you have to leave _now_?’

‘I want something...different, Thomas.’

From the way he hesitated, Thomas wondered if he meant that he wanted something ‘more’. Thomas turned away from his friend, his best friend for as long as he could remember, and he heard Bastian call out to him. He remained frozen and away from him. After a few minutes, Bastian left with a soft ‘I’m sorry Thomas’ and it was a second later that he heard his front door close.

He was on the phone with Miro before Bastian’s car was fully out of his driveway.

‘He’s leaving me.’

Miro must have seen something in the news, or maybe he had a source still at the club. Thomas wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case; everyone loved Miro.

‘Who? Bastian?’

Thomas muffled his way through an affirmative as he sank down on his sofa.

‘Thomas?’ Miro called when Thomas didn’t answer for several minutes.

Sounding more broken than he would ever care to admit, Thomas answered. ‘Why does everyone always leave me?’

He heard Miro’s exhale on the other end even as the salt pricked his eyes.

‘A one-club man these days are almost impossible to find. Maybe you will leave Bayern too, one day.’

‘Never.’ Thomas said and he meant it to the depths of his bones.

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Thomas. I know you mean it now, but maybe one day in the future you will want to travel, or you will want a different challenge, or--’

‘I would never leave. I would never leave my friends, or my home. This is my family. I wouldn’t abandon it!’ He shouted the last part, the anger at Bastian coming loud and ferocious.

Miro was quiet a moment before saying kindly, but with a resolve in his tone that he didn’t often have to use on Thomas. ‘Perhaps Bastian is leaving because he doesn’t want to know there will be a trophy in the cupboard within the next year. Maybe he wants to work for it. Or maybe he wanted to be closer to Lukas, who knows.’

‘It’s easy to win with Bayern. There is no one as consistently successful as we are.’

‘For some that’s tiresome.’

Thomas struggled to find a rebuttal that didn’t make him seem lazy or arrogant. All he could find to say was ‘...Dortmund are getting better.’

Miro just laughed.

\-----

A few days later Thomas sent a picture of a duck with an umbrella to Bastian. Within minutes, Bastian sent another apology. Thomas ignored it and simply replied with a promise to create a package with all of Bastian’s favorite German foods to send over because ‘God forbid the English know anything about real food’.

\-----

Fips was a good friend, but he was no Bastian and Holgi was injured more than he wasn’t. Thomas hated to say it, but he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if Bayern gave up on him sooner rather than later. Still, Holgi was good company when he was around and Thomas made sure to speak to him when he got the chance. Without non-peroxide blond Bastian around, Thomas was forced to find friendship and companionship elsewhere, and that, unfortunately for the goalkeeper, meant Manuel was on the receiving end of Thomas’ jokes more than the keeper wanted.

Maybe it was that reason that Manuel all but shoved Robert back at Thomas again.

‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.’ Thomas had told Manuel as they both had left the stadium once.

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

‘The Lewy thing. You bring him up all the time and he’s uncannily good about butting in to our conversations.’

‘If you spoke at a level that resembled human instead of fog horn, then I’m sure he wouldn’t.’

Thomas waved his hand. ‘He always shows up, it’s like you summon him somehow so you can get out of talking to me.’

Manuel rolled his eyes and finished adjusting his bag on his shoulder. ‘Maybe he has brain damage and he likes you.’

‘You’re mean to me, but I know the truth, you love me.’

Manuel shook his head and jostled Thomas with his shoulder as he brushed past. ‘Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.’

‘Pizza at your house tonight?’ When Manuel kept walking, Thomas was forced to use bribery. ‘I’ll bring Nutella for dessert!’

He could see the keeper’s shoulders slump. ‘Seven o’clock.’

Thomas’ grin was bright as he started out to his car and texted the other players as he went and invited them over. His finger only briefly hesitated over Robert’s name in his phone before he added it to the list as he sent out the mass text invitation.

\-----

That party was the first time that Robert kissed him. Alcohol had been involved, but not enough to use it as an excuse on Thomas’ part, and he suspected Robert’s either.

Thomas had stepped out onto Manu’s balcony for some fresh air and to get some sense of normal volume back in his head. Even from out there, he could feel the vibration of the music beneath his shoes and his hands where they rested on the railing. Manu would kill him for this later, especially since it was creeping close to midnight and there were still a ton of footballers in his house and he would not be going to bed any time soon.

Amused, Thomas leaned against the rail and inhaled deeply the faint scent of pine. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he could smell the snow on the mountains.

Lost to his own fancies, it took him a little longer to realize that he wasn’t alone, nor had he been since he had stepped outside. His eyes had been closed as he tried to regain his faculties but they snapped open when he felt someone come to stand next to him. Here, on the balcony, the shadows were king as the light only spilled out of Manu’s house so far and he hadn’t bothered to turn on the porch light when he’d stepped out.

He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Robert leaning against the railing, watching him.

‘How are you always so quiet?’ Thomas blurted and Robert smirked a little.

‘I’m really not that quiet.’

‘You just...appear.’

‘Maybe you’re distracted and don’t notice?’

‘Maybe you’re magical.’

Robert laughed on an exhale and looked over the dark garden beneath them. When he looked back, Thomas could see his eyes were dark.

‘I’ve been told I have many talents, yes.’

‘Not quite the same thing as magic though.’

‘I suppose not.’ Robert continued to smile at him and Thomas found himself responding to the attractive man in front of him. Alcohol kept him in place even as his mind said ‘ _damn it_ ’.

‘Do you think Manu is going to kill me slowly tomorrow?’ Thomas asked, looking behind him back toward the house when he heard something glass shatter inside.

‘Oh, I think you’ll live through tomorrow. The day after though…’ Robert made a face that Thomas could see out of the corner of his eye and he laughed before rubbing the back of his neck.

‘I think I’m going to need more than a little Nutella to get him to forgive me this time.’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage just fine. You always have before; you’re clever like that.’

Not many people had called him clever before, at least, none that had meant it. Robert seemed genuine.

‘Why did you come to Bayern?’ Thomas asked, leaning a little closer. He wasn’t in the habit of asking people that question; for him the answer was obvious. They wanted to win, and they were obviously good or Bayern wouldn’t have knocked on their door in the first place.

But Robert had been worshiped at Dortmund and he had the challenge that Bastian had been missing there. Success wasn’t a guarantee the same way it was here.

Robert watched him, a wariness slowly replacing the interest that had been there a moment before. Thomas wanted to bring it back, but he also wanted to know the answer to his question. He had heard what had been said about Robert online and by the ultras. He had ears and eyes and a brain; he wasn’t stupid to believe everything was glitter and rainbows (despite what he may have teased Miro with on occasion).

‘I was nearing the end of my contract. I wanted something else, something different.’

An echo from Bastian only a few weeks before, only now Thomas asked what he didn’t ask Basti then.

‘Something more?’ It was coincidental that his breath went up when he asked. He swore.

Robert nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I see.’ Thomas replied even though he really didn’t.

Robert seemed to relax a little because he turned into Thomas a little further, making the distance between them almost non-existent. When had they gotten so close?

‘I wanted things I couldn’t have at Dortmund.’ His fingers were on Thomas’ cheek and Robert’s eyes stared into his own. ‘You can understand how frustrating that must be?’

Thomas nodded once and he didn’t think Robert was talking about football anymore. He wasn’t sure what to feel and was even less certain when Robert closed the distance and kissed him.

The fabric of Robert’s shirt bunched in Thomas’ hand as he gripped the other man to pull him closer even as Robert’s tongue pressed past Thomas’ lips to tangle with his own.

Flattered, Thomas decided as he became breathless. He would feel flattered.

* * *

Some time later, it could have been minutes or another hour, but Thomas heard Robert’s feet padding up the stairs. Coming back to himself, Thomas didn’t move even as the bed dipped and he felt cool fingers running up his spine.

“Good morning.” Robert’s voice was too-awake to be a recent thing and Thomas grumbled a reply. “Breakfast is ready if you want?”

Thomas shifted so that he could face the other man. Robert was smiling at him and there was a gentleness in his eyes that was only specially reserved in certain cases, Thomas being one of them.

“You should bring it up. We can have it together, here.”

Robert smiled and leaned down to kiss him. Thomas barely responded to him before Robert was shifting off the bed to do just as he had asked. Thomas pushed himself up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He could hear a tray being made up from the clinking of plates and spoons in pots. He yawned and looked out the window again. It hadn’t cleared up any.

The smell of freshly cooked sausages heralded Robert’s return and Thomas looked over to the doorway to greet him. It took several minutes of balancing trays and things before Robert could make himself comfortable in bed next to Thomas and for them to start dividing up the breakfast.

“I love that you cook. It means I don’t have to.” Thomas replied, fixing his toast the way he liked it.

“One of my many talents.” Robert said reclining back into the pillows as he browsed through his news feed on his phone. Thomas wasn’t awake enough to bother with his phone yet and focused on eating.

Thomas wondered for a moment if Miro still read the physical newspaper or if he had caught up and checked the news on his phone. He’d have to ask him the next time they spoke, whenever that may be.

Robert made an amused sound and Thomas asked what was so funny.

“Apparently I want a transfer.” Robert showed him his phone screen that confirmed what he’d just said. Real Madrid were interested, the article said. Suddenly Thomas wasn’t hungry anymore.

It must have shown on his face because Robert leaned over and kissed him lightly on his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere. Remember last time? It was America? Yet here I am.”

“Yeah, I know.” Thomas replied but it sounded distant even to himself.

Robert pulled him as close as he could without disrupting the tray and gave him a tight squeeze. Then he rested their foreheads together and kept Thomas close.

“I will not leave you Thomas.”

Thomas nodded slowly and kissed Robert again. Robert maintained eye contact as they separated and made sure to keep as much of their bodies touching as possible as they resumed their breakfast.

When he was done, Thomas rested his head on Robert’s shoulder and settled into the pillows.

“Can we have a lazy lie in day?”

Robert nodded, moving only to place the empty tray on the bedside table. He added his phone to the collection and then settled back in bed, pulling Thomas into his body as he did so.

“Whatever you like, my love.”

Thomas leaned close and hoped this time the boy he had an emotional attachment to would stay.


End file.
